Drunken Moments
by Ready-made Prodigy
Summary: The true reason why Darcy had so eagerly bought his sister that new pianoforte. The unveiling of a drunken little secret, revealing an undoubtedly humorous situation.


_**Drunken Moments…**_

**Summary: **The true reason why Darcy had so eagerly bought his sister that new pianoforte. The unveiling of a drunken little secret, revealing an undoubtedly humorous situation.

**Time Line: **After the Darcy marriage. (referring to the piano Darcy sent to Pemberly shortly before Elizabeth's arrival to Pemberly)

**A/N: **I apologize if my writing style in not in true form according to both Jane Austen's writing style and style adopted at that time period. I live in the present where we grossly butcher any eloquence in our language through poor use or slang. I'll try my hardest. Yes, I have read the book and watched the mini-series and watched the newer version, which I enjoyed immensely.

**Disclaimer: **I am only borrowing, thus gaining nothing. Believe me, if I could, I'd own every last one of them and lock them away for my own entertainment. drools

**-O-O-O-**

The infamous Darcy couple lay side by side on the large four poster bed inside the master suite at the Pemberly Estates. The sheets were a bit rumpled, some of it trailing on the wooden flooring below. Most of it however, was entangled around the two occupants of the bed who were perfectly satisfied at its current position and were in no hurry to adjust it. In fact, the two were just talking, but it was much more than that because…well, because they were in love and everyone who has ever been in love knows that even the smallest and simplest moments are special.

Elizabeth, randomly playing with a bit of her husband's hair, could not let her curiosity be restrained any longer and after a while inquired, "Fitzwilliam? Is Pemberly in the habit of collecting pianofortes as easily as it does books?"

Fitzwilliam, more often referred to as just plain Darcy, sighed as he rolled over to face his wife. "Now why would you ask that?"

"Well, it seems to me that Permberly has an extensive amount of them even though half of them are rarely used, yet you seem to continue buying them. Why is that?"

Darcy, more teasingly than rejecting, took one of the pillows and put it on top of his head saying in a muffled voice, "You see my dear, that is the result of having a sister who has a great interest in music and has been brought up to get what she wants."

Elizabeth, rising to the challenge, flung the pillow from her husband, who tried hiding further with the use of his arms, and gave his hair a hard tug. "Then of course you will understand that I am also a sister who is very much accustomed to getting the things I want since most of those who have denied me have come to much bodily harm."

Darcy peeked from between his arms and answered, "And I believe it," but still gave no further explanation. At long last Elizabeth gave her husband the raised eyebrow look and Darcy's resolve broke beneath its power. "Alright fine, then rid yourself of your subtlety and ask me a question more direct so that I can endeavor to answer it plainly."

"Why did you buy Georgiana that new pianoforte when you have so many perfectly good ones all around the house. I have also been wondering why she will not play on the one in your personal study."

Darcy groaned loudly. "Can you not just accept that I love my sister dearly and desired to give her something nice?"

"No, because I know both young women and sisters enough to know that a gift of that sort was gained through some sort of expense towards its buyer. In a sibling relationship most of the time I would guess that it is a bribe over some form of blackmail," when Darcy made an effort to burrow into another pillow Elizabeth continued, "And by your reaction I would have to say it is true."

Darcy's only answer was to swat half heartedly in the general direction of his wife in a childish "leave me alone" kind of way.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "You stubborn man, if you will not answer that first question then perhaps the second."

"Will you accept that I have forbidden my sister to play in my study because of problems concerning my focus and attention?"

Elizabeth pretended to think about it before replying flatly, "No."

"Why ever not?"

"Because I know that you love your sister's playing and would never deny her if she asked to play even if the instrument was right next to your ear and you had to write an important letter to the queen in order to save all of England."

Darcy gave a loud sigh, complaining loudly, "This is why men cannot stand marrying intelligent women!"

"And this is why you did." With a decisive movement, Elizabeth gave her husband a firm kiss around the lips.

When it was done, Darcy sulked. "That was a cheap shot."

"Did it work?"

"…yes."

Elizabeth whooped energetically and fell silent immediately to listen to Darcy's story.

Turning to his wife and using his elbow as leverage he began to gently stroke her long dark hair, savoring the soft feel of it between his fingers. "To begin with, the whole mess started because of you."

"Oh really."

"Yes, it was shortly after our disastrous encounter at Rosings. I finished my business in town and was determined to make it home. I arrived at Pemberly at dark, past dinner. Not wanting to alert anyone to my presence so that I could have the utmost privacy possible, I crept through one of the side doors and snuck into my study. The fact was that because of the my previous business I was able to push aside the events that had occurred between you and I, along with all of my wayward emotions, thus when my work was completed there was no way to stave off the chill of emptiness. Like any respectable man who had just been cruelly rejected by the woman of his dreams, I began to drink…a lot."

**-O-**

Fitzwilliam Darcy was drinking…a lot. Leaning heavily on the desk in his darkened study he poured himself possibly his thirty second glass of hard liquor and downing it in a single swig, completely ignoring how vile the drink was and how improper it was for him to be drinking it in such an eager manner. He did not know the exact number of glasses he had drank, nor cared because incidentally Fitzwilliam Darcy was also very, very drunk.

He placed the cup back onto the desk to restart the process again by pouring himself some more of the strong amber fluid that was making life a whole lot better. It made him not care about anything and so nothing could bother him. He brought the cup to his lips, but felt nothing meet his waiting throat. Trying to focus his eyes on the glass he realized that there was nothing occupying it. Darcy blinked several times and refocused, but still received the same result. Had he already drank it without noticing? Perhaps he had better stop…

Darcy let a picture of Elizabeth's face play in his mind and felt a stab of pain race through his heart. No, definitely cannot stop drinking.

As the room tilted crazily to the left like a ship at sea, Darcy braced himself against the desk and felt one of his hands slide across the polished wooden surface causing him to stumble to his knees and his head to slam onto the desk top. Fortunately, he had quite enough alcohol to render him of any feelings of pain. Practically sitting upon the floor, it must have taken him half of a life time to realize that he had slipped on the very liquor that had mysteriously disappeared from his glass. In his semi-lucid state of mind he must have missed the glass as he poured.

As slowly as the other realization had took, he was then struck with a wonderfully ingenious thought. This whole problem of getting the liquor in the glass could be easily remedied by simply drinking from the bottle. Pulling himself back up into a standing position, though still swaying clumsily, he began to do just that.

Unbeknownst to him, his sister had finally noticed that his carriage was checked in and had just arrived in the study to greet him. The sight she was met with stunned her.

"Brother?"

Darcy spun around unsteadily and a huge grin spread about his face. "Georgiaaaaanaaaa!"

He stumbled forward and attempted to hug her energetically. However, it was only an attempt due to the fact that he tried to close his arms still two feet away from where his sister was and ended up falling forward and nearly crushing the poor girl instead.

Georgiana braced herself and supported her brother's weight as best as she could, crinkling her nose at the heavy smell engulfing her she asked, "Oh god Fitzwilliam, how much have you been drinking?"

Still making an effort at a hug and trying to look straight at his sister he said slurring slightly, "Howd you know?"

"Well it seems that half of it has gone down your shirt," Georgiana exclaimed, tugging at her brother to sit into a chair, which he did, although he more fell than sat. Darcy then began to entertain himself with a piece of string that had come out of the chair's upholstery. Georgiana surveyed her brother with sadness. Darcy hardly ever drank because he hardly ever needed to. The fact that he had drank so extensively worried her. She laid a hand on his own and looked deep within his glassy eyes. "Brother, why have you been drinking?"

"Rozings."

She shook her head as understanding settled in. "Did aunt Catherine try pushing for you to propose to Anne again?"

Darcy gave her a look of confusion. "No."

Georgiana's compassion was thrown clean out of the window. "Then why are you so appallingly drunk!" Georgiana rubbed her eyes in exasperation. "You need a wife Fitzwilliam," she said irately.

Darcy nodded erratically. "Yes, yes I know. That is why I tried gedding one."

Georgiana was suddenly intrigued. This could not be the result of his drunken stupor. Her brother would never say anything about marriage unless he meant it. She was saved the trouble of inquiring further because he started to erupt into drunken rambles.

"She is so pretty. I like it when she smiles and I loath when it goes away even though I seem to be the main reason why she stops smiling, so I guess I hate myself. I dunno. I propozed you know. I wrote it all down. Everything that I'd say. I practiced it. I said it in front of the mirror a million times. I saw her run through the rain during one of her odd little walks in the park. I went to meet her. Maybe I shouldn't of asked then. Rain is always a bad sign. It means sadness. Tears like rain…"

Georgiana was now thoroughly discouraged about her brother's "propozal" as he then moved on to rant about romantic atmospheres. Using all the strength she could muster, as well as patience, she practically dragged her brother down the hall and into his room while he still babbled on about dew drops on roses and the stars reflected in lake water. Exerting the last of her energy she more of less threw her brother on the bed and haphazardly pulled some of the covers over him. Darcy was still talking.

"Go to sleep already!" she ordered agitatedly.

"But you didn't listen to my story," he whined.

"You were probably drunk then too!"

Then, like clouds dispersing to reveal a starry night sky, Darcy's answer was devoid of its previous drunken slurring and perfectly serious.

"No, I wasn't."

Georgiana stared at him in surprise.

"I know I wasn't because I had written everything else down, yet I still wasn't prepared to say it, but when I did, it felt more real and more true than anything I had ever said before."

"Say what? What did you say?" Georgiana asked shakily.

"I love you."

Darcy's eyes closed and he fell asleep so quickly it was as if those last few sentences had taken every last shred of energy he had. Georgiana was stunned and could only sit in silence beside her brother's bed, watching his chest rise and fall in nearly perfect intervals. What had her brother done?

Waking up the next morning was nothing short of hell for Darcy. His head seemed to have been run over by every carriage in a fifty mile radius and his eyes seemed too big for their sockets. His legs were lead and his fingers were tingling. He curled up in a corner of his bed and smothered his face with a fort of pillows to somehow divert the pain. He was in agony. He couldn't hear anything above the pounding in his head except…

Music…music was filtering through the haze of pain. Lifting himself from his pathetic position in his sheets he could hear a painfully familiar tune. It was the one she played at Rosings. It had a beautiful melody that could not be marred even by her lack in proficiency. It alleviated the pain somewhat, but he knew that she was the only one who could take it all away.

Forcing himself out of bed and ignoring the way the room blurred when he stood up, he began the long endeavor to search for the source of the music. He passed by doors without seeing them and saw the sunlight without feeling it. The music grew louder. He found himself back in his study, instinctively making his way to the piano near the window. He drew closer and he could see the player. The music beckoned him on and he stood to the side of the piano to watch his sister play, feeling the regret wash over him in waves. His heart clenched and his stomach flipped dangerously…

**-O-**

"At this point I can only remember seeing the concerned face of my sister before purging the contents of my stomach all over the piano and passing out spectacularly upon the floor," Darcy finished.

Elizabeth burst out into laughter, practically falling off of the bed. Darcy decided that she should not get into the habit of doing only half of a job and pushed her the rest of the way off. Tears of mirth made their way out of her eyes and slid across her face at the expense of her husband.

Through her laughter Elizabeth wheezed out, "And how did your sister take it?"

"She apparently screamed very loudly and was angry enough that, unlike the night before where she had made an effort to care for me, she saw fit to leave me there on the floor to wake up to a horrible smell and alert the servants myself. I also believe, judging from the very large bruise on my side that developed shortly after, she had kicked me on the way out. I suppose it was understandable since I seemed to have gotten some of it on her too. She raged on for days until I promised her that new pianoforte that came in shortly before your arrival to Pemberly."

This set Elizabeth off into a fit of giggles until she was forced to calm herself down in order to breath. Taking pity on her poor husband, she bestowed him another kiss and snuggled closer to him.

"That was a very enjoyable story and I thank you immensely for sharing it with me."

Darcy gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and smiled mischievously. "Yes, well I couldn't have gotten through it if I had not been looking forward to my reward."

"What reward!" Elizabeth exclaimed in alarm.

"You cannot think that I would reveal such a horrendous story if not in the hopes of receiving one in return. It is only fair you know."

Elizabeth blew some hair out her eyes. "Very well, what do you want to hear about?"

"I am sure you and your sisters have had some kind of drunken escapade of your own as well."

Elizabeth groaned. "Yes we did. It involved the baker's son, a pony, and Mr. Collins…"

And so Elizabeth began to relate some of her most deepest secrets and in turn Darcy reluctantly withdrew his own because everyone who has ever been in love knows that the smallest and simplest moments can be the most treasured…and of course, humorous.


End file.
